Worked so well for me as an oneiric soporific that it took me a while to register the creeping disappointment of its political and art-historical critique. At one point I found myself murmuring "Mo ... Napoleon ... Mona ... Poleon" several times before I finally cringed and wiped the drool from my chin. I swear.
Um filme-tese hegeliano que quer dar a conhecer as várias sínteses (em matérias estéticas e políticas) que compõem a História do Louvre, recorrendo a uma fluidez textual - onde quase todos os modos do discurso são experimentados e sucessivamente descartados - que me parece artificial e pouco fiel à intenção poética que Sokurov certamente teria. Fico com vontade de regressar à National Gallery de Frederick Wiseman.
Like the sailor says in the beginning of these film "it's not about the past, is about the present". Sokurov responded creating an intricate connection between times, like a proustian version of louvre. Napoleon, the freedom, Jaujard and Franz Wolff-Metternich are all reunite to celebrate a history, but never forgotten how many battles, how many human lifes lost and the aspects of conquest. It's a fair film.
The ability to work on images and sounds and to reverberate these over and under those is not lost and is, obviously, one of Sokurov's many talents. It turns out that in this beautiful project his system is something crystallized, not exactly as a commonplace but less transformative than is his usual, with a sort of loss in so much dispersion of points of view. However, an exercise of an acutely intelligence.
Sokurov here is very much operating as a poet more than a documentarian or an essayist, much to the benefit of any viewer willing to cooperate. How is it like poetry? It is totally compressed and clear in a way that is unclear. It has localized its historical zones of interest and circles them warily, feeling its way around w/ its manifold senses. A film w/ a clear mission that nonetheless has to discover what it is.